Aang
by jrba95
Summary: The story of Aang before the iceberg. Covers his parents, life as a nomad, and early days of being the Avatar. Gyatso POV for the most part. I covered some loose ends. Read and Respond.


_A/N: I have always been intrigued by Aang's life before he ran away. He is the perfect example of how things turn from innocent to tragic, in essence the inevitable nature of having childhood immediately stop. This subject has always interested me….wow this author's note is making me sound smart lolz… This story is about Aang's childhood in a nutshell. Enjoy…AND REVIEW…please. All of this is from Gyatso's POV. _

Chapter One

I have had many students enter under my tutorage, airbenders and people from other nations alike. I'd seen them learn to walk and talk, and then learn the harsh and pleasing ways of the world; some have grown old; some have died. Their light and life have always stayed with me, and I thrived along with them. Yet, something about Aang told me that he would be my last pupil. I didn't have the slightest premonition about him, quite the opposite in fact. The minute I saw him smile at me from his mother's arms I knew that it couldn't get any better than that. I knew immediately that something about Aang was… different.

His parents were young and naïve and were anxious to get back to the world after the obligatory year spent with their first child. It was air-nomad custom to have the young one nurtured by their parents for a year, and then sent off to the monks to acquire their training. It had been the Air-nomad's way for millennia, and these young parents, like thousands of parents before them, didn't think twice. Parents, in our culture, were merely vessels that produced more brothers and sisters into the air way of life. Handing the child over to me was as simple as handing him over to a family member; in our eyes it is the same thing.

The Northern Air Temple was humorously nicknamed "The Nest" by the nomads still producing children. Hundreds of expecting mothers and fathers returned to this sacred ground each year to birth their young and care for them until a monk chose them as their pupil and foster child. Even the flying bison reared their calves here. The place was always full of life and the innocence of early childhood. I always loved to travel here, despite meaning that I was abandoning my favored Southern Temple for a short time. Something about it made me feel _lighter, _if that was even possible for an airbender. As I had done so many times before, I shut by eyes and bowed before the statue of the Spirit of Love and Guidance in prayer. I all ways looked forward to new beginnings. I wouldn't know until later how much I would need all the love and guidance I could get.

The room where the parents waited with their children was soft and appealing to the eye. The walls were stacked with dusted yellow bricks and painted with intricate murals of the story in the life of an air-nomad, foreshadowing the journey these youngsters were about to take. Birth, nurturing, spirituality, travel, wind, love, and then the journey on: it was the Circle of Life. It was early in the morning, so the usually brightly lit room was shrouded in darkness. The only light came from a wide window towards the back of the room, but the light was hazy because of all the floating dust. It was too early for many of the parents to be waiting with their young yet. The ones who were present were eager to be rid of their child and more than ready to enter into the world again. These were the parents who had mated and reared a child not long after they had been freed from their own masters at the tender age of sixteen. For some unexplainable reason, these were the children I seemed to favor. Eagerness is a virtue more often than not.

At such an early hour, they were the only family in the room. Nothing inside of me warned me to be cautious or too hasty to pick the only pupil available at the time; I gravitated toward them. My eyes were zeroed in on the yellow bundle that the obvious mother was clutching in her arms. But as I drew closer to them, the songs of the birds fled and my ears were dominated by the couple's harsh bickering. I slowed my step to scrutinize them more closely before I dared to venture to close. The man was unnaturally tall for an air-nomad and wore a heavy orange travelling cloak. He often looked out the window as he paused from bickering his mate. The tattoos on his narrow head were so dark that they only must have recently been etched. I smiled: He was as stir-crazy as any newly-liberated youngster I had ever seen. Air-nomads weren't meant to be cooped up in the same place for too long, let alone a year. The woman, though heavily wrapped and sporting a round face, was obviously slender and lithe. The squirming bundle in her arms seemed to be weighing her down in more ways than just the literal one. Yet, like so many mothers before her, she often gazed down at the child's hidden face with eyes full of love. Despite what the other nation's opinions were about the air-nomad's flippant customs regarding childhood, this was never a time of pain for the parting parents. Joy and acceptance filled this day: There child was liberated to the world and the wind.

It was obvious that this young couple was more than ready to be liberated as well.

"We should have stayed in our cell (_cell is what you call a monk's room_) and slept for another hour, Lanh," the young woman cooed, without taking her large grey eyes off of the gurgling baby. "Nobody is going to be here for another hour at least! I told you so yesterday." She ended the last sentence a little sharper than when she began.

Lanh growled impatiently and passed his glider from hand to hand. He was so obviously still a teenager that I was tempted to call out why he wasn't participating in morning meditation. "Niral, were you not there at the weather hall yesterday? The best gusts for North are," he paused for a moment to stick his head out the window to look at the heavens, "right now. The sooner we can find our son a master, the sooner we can catch the current."

Niral looked at him incredulously and instinctively clutched the sleeping child tighter. Even from my respectable distance, I could feel her anger fill the room like a poisonous gas. "What is wrong with you today? I should have listened to Master Chira and made you drunk before we walked here. And they said this was tougher on the women—HA!"

Remember when I said that I loved the eager ones? That's true, but you've got to be very, very careful! I was tempted for a split second to discretely back out and run from the bickering young couple as if my life depended on it. But from the center of my scull (_chakra—air/instinct) _I knew I should stay put. The child seemed to be luring me in as if he were fishing me out of a vast ocean. He had caught me; he was my destiny. I approached with unfaltering velocity.

The heated expressions on the parents' faces immediately phased to that of worry and anticipation when they noticed my approach. I tried to look as friendly as possible, which my friends and peers tell me isn't a feat whatsoever. Niral looked wary; looking me over like a mother eagle would a panther that was too close to her nest. Lahn, on the contrary, looked relieved. I was too old to understand the inner psyche of youngsters, and I couldn't if I tried because I was never a parent myself.

A little too hastily for tradition, Lahn stood before his mate and child and bowed low before me. I reciprocated with an open smile on my face. Just as I have done so many times before, I opened my mouth to speak as soon as we had endured the formalities. "Congratulations for your child and your fortune. My name is Monk Gyatso."

And just like so many times before, the mouths of both of the parents dropped. I always found it humorous that people thought I was a figure worthy of awe just because they knew my name. I am a simple monk.

Niral stood up, with difficulty, and moved to stand beside her mate. I looked down at her cheerfully as usual. "It's…it's an honor Honored Gyatso." Lahn looked at her as if he couldn't believe the words that had emerged from her lips; Niral winced. I just smiled. Without taking his narrow grey eyes off of me, he lifted his son from Niral's arms and held him in a way that I could gaze on his sleeping face.

"He was born a year ago today, Monk Gyatso," Lahn said in a reverent tone. My old eyes glanced into the thread-bare yellow blanket and were amazed at what they witnessed. I have always been in awe of the miracle of life. Innocence is something so fleeting, yet saturated in the tiny bodies of the young. That doesn't mean that each human being has a small amount of innocence; I rather considered that people had just lost it over time. But when his little grey eyes opened to meet my elderly ones, I felt innocent once more myself. Something felt right, like the last piece of a puzzle; it was destiny.

Cautiously, I stretched my arms out, begging to have this incredible child be released to me. I gingerly allowed the infant in my grasp, and held him up to see him in the light. A thick tuft of warm brown curls lay on the crown on his head and wafted heavily in the light breeze. Slowly, the child shook himself out of his nocturnal trance, allowing his fine grey eyes to focus on my wrinkled face. When he smiled, I smiled. The pale, chubby arm that was freed from the yellow blanket stretched forward to curiously cling to the sparse amount of hair that had yet to be stolen from me. I knew immediately that I didn't have to wait for any other parents to bring in their young: this little one was meant for me.

When Niral looked into my eyes, I could tell that she knew my decision and once. She offered only a sad smile and held her mate's arm tightly. Their eyes were glued anxiously to their face. Even the flighty Lahn was biting his lips in order to mask the wrenching discomfort he was experiencing. They knew full well that they would never see him again, at least not as their son. From this day forth, he would be their fellow nomad and brother.

Lahn shook his head, clueless. "Is this all we do. Don't you ask us questions? Aren't you going to ask us about our help?" The young man, who only a moment ago took his fathering responsibility casually, looked as if he wanted to snatch his infant from my arms. "It…it just seems so abrupt and unceremonious, if you ask me."

I nodded as I tucked my new pupil into the crook of my arm. "I don't think that'll be necessary. Besides, don't you have a Northern current to catch?" I had tried to say this humorously, but I had only succeeded in making the young man look more estranged. Whoever said that old is correlated with wise was not entirely correct. I breathed deeply, deciding it was the best to say some encouraging words to these awkward first time parents. "I will do my best to raise this child to be an honorable and wise man. You have my word."

At this, Lahn bowed to me. I couldn't escape the stare of Niral's saddened wide eyes. She was a mother, no matter how young or for how short of a time she was. Something inside of me told me that no simple assurance could appease her. From experience, I knew that it was pointless to try. Our gaze broke only when Lahn started to gently tug her away. She resisted, bending over the drowsy bundle to kiss her son on the forehead. She lingered there awhile, absorbing in every scent and warm touch of her baby. But once she sensed that her husband was too intimidated by the difficult situation at hand to stand still, she rose and wiped a solitary tear from her eyes. Now she looked at me with confidence and determination and I caught a glimpse of what this child would grow up to be.

"You'll have to watch him close; he likes to put everything except food in his mouth." I nodded.

I was stunned, however, when Lahn spoke up. "And he never sits still. The other day, he grabbed a lemur by the tail and it almost flew off with him." I couldn't help but crack a grin.

It nearly broke me when I heard Niral's voice crack. "He goes to sleep late, but rises early. I don't know why. He doesn't really cry or get sick ever. He is allergic to rose-berries and…"

Niral looked up desperately to the young man holding her, but he just shrugged and sniffed. They looked so—lost. I was grateful that the child was gradually drifting back to sleep; it is always easiest that way. When I glanced at the miserable pair again, they were slowly backing out of the hall. As hard as they tried not to look at their son, they were failing. I couldn't blame them.

"Let the wind carry you on," Lahn called in a strained voice once they were finally out the door.

I freed a fragile hand to lift up and wave. "And you, my brother," I said. The traditional reply spurted out of me like a textbook read, but even in my many years of experience, could not think of any better words. If I have learned anything it is that sometimes there are none.

Before we, being the child and me, had been alone together for more than a moment, another nervous looking family walked in. They looked around cautiously before entering, as if they thought it was a trap. They were obviously first time parents too. I sighed heavily before exiting the room, but not before giving the new parents an encouraging smile.

The new morning sun was rising over the temple towers now. A ray of powerful light landed on the baby's pale little face, causing him to wince and rub his stinging eyes in his sleep. Weakly, his eyes opened enough that I could see grey again. I smiled down on him as we walked lightly back to my cell until the officiating ceremony would begin that evening. In my experience, the time in between the choosing and the officiating were always the most sincere and intimate. We were still separate entities, not yet master and pupil. We could be as real as an elderly man and an infant could be with each other.

I continued to smile and whisper promising plans to him about his future until he smiled back at me too. He waved his chubby little fist at my nose and squeaked: "Baaa!"

I laughed heartily and made a shallow bow, as best as I could manage with the growing child in my arms. "It's a pleasure to meet you too," I said jovially. "Aang."


End file.
